


Heart of the Legend

by Jackkel Dragon (jackkel_dragon), jackkel_dragon



Series: Dragon Age: Sophia Hawke [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-07
Updated: 2011-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:00:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackkel_dragon/pseuds/Jackkel%20Dragon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackkel_dragon/pseuds/jackkel_dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"At the heart of every legend is the truth. Long before she became the Champion of Kirkwall, Sophia Hawke endured a childhood on the run. The legend that has been told of her adventures forget that she was once a child..." Background story for an aggressive, templar-supporting Hawke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Namesake

_At the heart of every legend is the truth.  
Long before she became the Champion of Kirkwall, Sophia Hawke endured a childhood on the run. The legend that has been told of her adventures forget that she was once a child..._

9:21 Dragon

    I clutched my father's hand tightly as he spoke with the templar. Sister Merelle told me that templars are supposed to protect us from evil magic, that they would hunt down witches and wizards that just wanted our blood for their dark magic. They were supposed to keep people safe from magic.  
    My father was a mage.  
    He had entrusted me with that secret years ago, making me promise never to tell anyone else. It was our family's secret that magic ran in our blood. It was our curse and blessing to hide from others, living at the edge of every settlement where we briefly made our home. Our burden to spirit out of each village as they began to suspect my father of being apostate.  
    It was why I hid from a servant of the Chantry as my father tried to hide his talent from the man sent to find him.  
    The man introduced himself as Ser Palmer. He had short blond hair, a thin face and blue eyes that promised you that he would always speak honestly before both man and the Maker. He spoke cordially, only asking my father if he had seen any hints of supernatural powers at work from our farm outsite the settlement.  
    My father lied that he knew nothing of magic at work near our home, claiming that the mage may be hiding in the nearby hills. The templar seemed content with this story, assuming that my father was as honest as he. How could he have suspected my father of lying? My father wore his brown hair loose like many of the other common farmers in our small village outside South Reach, and his dark green eyes had the same no-nonsense attitude as all Fereldans.  
    My father sighed deeply the moment the templar was out of hearing. My heart sank with the defeated tone of his exhale. I hugged him tight, burying my face in his tunic. "We have to leave again, don't we?"  
    "Yes." He whispered. Ever since I learned the reason for our flight from the templars, I had always asked the same question. I always recieved the same answer. I always promised myself I wouldn't miss my old homes, my old friends. I always promised myself that I would never get attached to a new home or new friends. And I always cried when my father said it was time to leave.  
    "I don't want to leave again!" I sobbed, clenching my fists. "Why do they always find us? Why can't they just go away?"  
    My father simply patted my back, letting me cry into his tunic. Once I found myself unable to continue weeping, he kissed me on the head. "It'll be all right, Sophia." I looked up into his face, mine still red from my sobbing. He smiled sadly at me. "I promise that one day we'll find a home where we don't have to run away."  
    He took my hand and led me back to our farm, where my little brother Carver was sitting on the fence holding a long stick. He had our mother's black hair and brown eyes, and he was the most adventurous of our family. He saw us approaching, jumping off the fence and running up to us with his stick. He had a big smile over his face, shouting "Mama's making roast mutton tonight!" He was about to continue when he saw the tear streaks down my eyes and my father's sad countenance. Although my father tried to put Carver at ease by smiling at him and commenting on the supper that waited for us, the grin had vanished from Carver's face. At nine years old, he was still only a little boy, and he only recently learned why we always had to leave our homes.  
    Our sad procession came to our house, little more than an old barn that my father had rebuilt into a home. My mother and Bethany were setting the table in the main room of the house when we entered. Bethany was Carver's twin, and also had mother's black hair and brown eyes. She was the sweetest girl in every place we went, never crying or complaining about our constant exile from each home we left. She was the first to notice us, cheerfully calling out to mother that we were home. My mother turned from the table to see father's smiling face, but the frowns on my face and Carver's gave away the bad news, and she began to frown as well. Bethany seemed to be the last to understand what was happening, but the realization came to her quickly.  
    "So it's time, then." Mother sighed. "I suppose we all knew this would come."  
    My father walked over to her and stroked her shoulder. "Not now, Leandra. Let the children have their last meal here before we prepare."  
    Mother nodded. "You're right, Malcolm." She turned to me and Carver. "Come to the table, children. We're not going to have another chance to sit like this for a while."  
    We all sat in our places at the table, a sorrowful cloud over all of us. Had it been any other day, we would have been cheerful and excited to have such a meal together. Today no one was even willing to speak. Though my father didn't bring up the subject of leaving, Bethany and Carver could understand what was going to happen without being told.  
    I left the table after I had finished eating, retreating to my room. It was little more than a closet in the loft of the old barn with a straw bed, a chair, some books and a window, but it was home. I looked out on our farm and held back tears as I listened to Carver throwing a tantrum below. I didn't even hear Bethany come in until she called my name. She looked up at me with her eyes in that way that told you she was on the verge of tears that she never let fall. She climbed onto my bed and hugged me tight, whispering "I'm going to miss our farm."  
    I held her tightly, trying to keep from crying while she was looking to me for strength. "I'm going to miss this place too."  
    We stayed there for a long time. Carver's temper subsided and father came to his room to pack what he wanted to bring when we left. Eventually Bethany let go and ran to her room to collect her favorite toys. I stacked my books on the chair and continued to look out the window, watching the sun set.  
    I was watching the darkening sky after dusk for the first stars when I heard a knock at the door. I looked to see my mother smiling sadly at me. She stepped inside and took my books off the chair to sit down, setting the books on the floor next to her. "Are you feeling all right, darling?"  
    I sighed and crossed my arms. "I don't want to be on the run like this."  
    My mother reached out, touching my arm. "I know, dear. I wish there were some place where we could stay for good, but for now we have to leave."  
    I laid back in my bed, my frustration over being forced to leave returning. "It isn't fair. We're being hunted like criminals." I covered my face so that my mother wouldn't see my anger, or maybe because I was ashamed to be as frustrated as Carver. "I just wish we were nobility, or something. Then we wouldn't have to leave, people would respect us! We wouldn't be worried that one wrong word could get us all killed or captured!"  
    My mother was silent for a minute. I looked up to see that she had a frown on her face, as if she was thinking, or maybe remembering something. Her frown deepened for a moment before suddenly disappearing. "Did I ever tell you who you were named after, darling?"  
    I shook my head. I thought she was changing the subject, but I was too tired of thinking about leaving and didn't want to become more angry at what I couldn't change.  
    "You were named after a noblewoman" she began. "Royalty, almost." I looked up at her, causing her to smile at my sudden interest. "Arlessa Sophia Dryden." She watched my face as I turned to face her, expecting more. She chuckled. "I would have thought you overheard her story by now, she is certainly remembered by the nobility of Ferelden."  
    "Why, what did she do?" I asked quietly.  
    My mother got up from the chair and sat next to me on the bed, putting an arm around me. "Well, the King of Ferelden had passed away without leaving an heir, so the nobles looked to the Bannorn to find a new leader. There were two who wished to take the throne: one of them was Bann Arland and the other was--"  
    "Sophia." I finished.  
    My mother chuckled. "Yes, Sophia Dryden. She was popular in the Bannorn, and known to be a good leader. But in the end, Arland was crowned king. He quickly became known as a tyrant by some, and Sophia still wanted the throne. So she started finding allies among the dissatisfied nobles and tried to take the crown by force, only to be captured by Arland's men."  
    "He didn't have her killed, did he?"  
    "No, but he wanted to." My mother looked at me in the eye. "Sophia still had friends and allies that supported her, that threatened to depose Arland if he executed Sophia. So instead he gave her to the Grey Wardens, and I'm sure you've heard stories about them."  
    I nodded, thinking back to rumors and stories I heard in the villages we once lived in. "They're great warriors, rangers and mages who fight against the darkspawn. They recruit anyone who they think is skilled enough to help them, but some of the recruits are never seen again." I gulped. "There's even rumors that the Wardens recruit criminals and that the recruits that disappear died during their initiation."  
    My mother nodded. "King Arland had heard those rumors as well, and hoped that Sophia would be killed by the initiation into the Grey Wardens. He forced her to leave behind her old life to join them."  
    I looked up at my mother. "You mean... she was forced to leave her home?" She nodded. "Like... how we're being forced to leave..." I wondered if my mother had picked the name for that reason. But she was finished with her story.  
    "Sophia didn't die, and her skills as a leader eventually made her the Warden-Commander of Ferelden. She--" My mother stopped herself, as if she were going too far. She regained her composure and smiled at me. "You're named after a woman who never gave up, Sophia. Remember that, at least."  
    I hugged my mother, most of my anger at being forced to leave having abated for the moment. "I'll remember, mother."  
    "Good." She whispered. She kissed my head and smiled at me. "We're going to have to leave before the sun rises, so you should get some sleep."  
    I let go of her so that she could stand up, and she moved my books back onto my chair before she walked to the door. She paused at the threshold, turning back and smiling. "Good night, Sophia."  
    I wrapped my blanket around me to keep from getting cold and tried to sleep, but it only came after a long time of worrying about what might come during next few weeks. I didn't even know I had been asleep until my father shook my shoulder to wake me. I looked up groggily and sighed. It was time to go.


	2. Another Curse

9:23 Dragon

    The blacksmith's shop was hot and stuffy, which would have been unbearable if it had not been freezing out in the winter mountains. I kept pacing back and forth while the apprentice, Soren, dug through a pile of firewood. The smith was out to return a repaired tool to one of the farmers, and we didn't have much time before he came back.  
    "Is this one long enough?" Soren asked, holding up a long branch. His black hair glistened with sweat from the heat of the forge, and waited expectantly for me to judge the branch.  
    "It looks long enough..." I mused as I inspected it. "But how heavy is it?"  
    "Here, you feel out the weight." He handed me the branch, which I tested by swinging it a few times. I nodded, indicating it was heavy enough. "Good, I was starting to think we'd have to check the pile out back." He hurriedly grabed some of his tools as I looked over the branch more closely. "If I may ask... why do you need that wood? Why couldn't you just take one from your pile?"  
    "I couldn't find one like this in my pile." Soren tilted his head at me, expecting a more specific answer, no doubt. "I need it to practice something."  
    "Practice what?" Soren chuckled as he checked to make sure a water barrel was cool enough. "Are you..." He shook his head. "I can't think of anything that might need a tree branch."  
    I sighed, looking out the window to make sure the smith wasn't back yet. "You won't tell anyone?"  
    Soren mock saluted me with a hammer. "May the Maker smite me and feed me to the dogs before that."  
    I moved close to Soren and whispered into his ear. "I've been practicing my sword fighting."  
    Soren nodded his head. "Oh, I get it now. You needed a practice staff." He left his hammer on a table and rummaged through a pile of tools and brought out a staff that was far superior to my branch. "You may want this instead."  
    I hesitantly gave back the branch in exchange for the staff. "Won't the staff be missed?"  
    Soren snorted. "Are you kidding? Henrik gave it to me when I considered joining the army last year. It's mine to lose, as far as he cares now."  
    "Well, thanks." I nodded at Soren and smiled slightly. I turned to leave, but Soren called out to me before I reached the door.  
    "Are you thinking of joining the army, Sophia?" He asked quietly.  
    I clutched the staff in both hands and considered how to tell the truth without giving my secret away. "No, not the army."  
    "The templars, then?"  
    I shuddered at the thought. "Definately not."  
    "Good. I'd miss you if you left."  
    I felt my face turn red, and was glad that I had my back to Soren. I nearly stumbled on my words as I said "I should go before Henrik gets back."

    The infamous frozen winter air of West Hill greeted me harshly as I left the blacksmith's shop and made my way back home. I wrapped my cloak around me as best I could while carrying the staff, trying to keep the cold at bay. Once I had reached the farm, I left the staff in the shed that held most of our tools during the winter, expecting no one would question its presence for a long time, if ever.  
    The warmth of the fire inside our little home was a pleasant change from the winter chill outside. Bethany and Carver had been reading by the fire, and my little sister ran over to welcome me home with a hug. I just smiled and hugged her back until she let go, all the while enduring a glare from Carver for stealing his reading partner. It wasn't long before my mother got the news that I had returned from the village and came to greet me.  
    "Did Soren have a replacement for that shovel of yours, dear?" Mother asked, reminding me that I actually had a legitimate reason for going to the blacksmith.  
    "No, but he said I could just bring my old one to Henrik and see if he can fix it." I lied. I really hoped that Henrik could fix the mangled mess of metal my shovel had become when a cart rolled over it. I still couldn't help but wonder how the cart made it out unscathed, but my metal shovel was destroyed.  
    Carver rocked himself back and forth on the floor, watching me. "She just wants to spend more time with Soren."  
    "There's nothing wrong with that, is there?" My mother chided playfully. "She's seventeen, is it wrong that she likes a boy her age?"  
    "Mother!" I protested, surprised that she would just assume that I liked a boy just because we were friends.  
    "Sophie and Soren sittin' in a barn..." Carver began mischiviously.  
    "Carver!" My mother cried. "Who taught you that?"  
    "Bethany did!" He shouted, pointing at her accusingly.  
    "No I didn't!" Bethany gasped, hugging me close. "Daddy taught you that song!"  
    I shook my head, embarrassed and appalled. "You've got to be kidding me."  
    My mother pulled Carver up from his spot and almost dragged him into the next room. Bethany and I followed to watch my father look up from his book. My mother pointed at Carver with her free hand and made a face at father.  
    "What have you been teaching this boy?" She demanded.  
    Father shook his head. "What do you mean? I've mostly been reading him some of my old books--"  
    "Those aren't appropriate for a boy of eleven!" She cried. Carver looked back and smirked at me.  
    "Well, I read them to Bethany too..."  
    "Maker's breath, Malcolm! That's even worse! What kind of thoughts do you want your children to have?"  
    My father frowned, looking around the room as if to find an excuse on the walls. He saw Bethany and I standing at the door and faked a smile. "You're back from your trip, Sophia! How was it?"  
    "Don't change the subject!" My mother cried. My father closed his book and stood up, bowing his head.  
    "I'm sorry, Leandra. I promise not to let Carver or Bethany read the books again until they're at least fourteen."  
    "Aw, come on!" Carver sighed. "I liked the senseless violence."  
    "See what you've done?" My mother admonished. "You've scarred the boy." She let go of Carver and gave him a little push back to the fireplace. "Go ahead and sit by the fireplace, you three. I need to talk about something with your father."  
    Bethany and Carver both ran back to the book they were reading, sitting down and acting as if nothing had happened since I came home. I considered warming myself by the fireplace, but instead decided to hang my cloak on its peg and go up to my room, where I could listen in on my parents' consversation.  
    My room was as bare as any other home I lived in, the only difference from the last being that I didn't get to keep a chair for myself. Instead, I sat on the floor near a crack that let me hear into the room below. I made sure I didn't make a sound as I put my ear against the hole, wondering what sort of trouble my father had gotten himself into. I listened until I finally caught my mother's voice:  
    "--can't just go. They have friends here."  
    "I'm sorry, Leandra. But we can't stay after what she did."  
    "It's not her fault! She didn't know!"  
    "They'll come for her all the same."  
    "Malcolm... we can't leave. They can't keep running."  
    "If we don't run, we'll lose her."  
    "But... she never asked for this!"  
    "No one does, Leandra."  
    "Why her? Why Bethany?"  
    "Magic runs in our families, it was inevitable we would have at least one mage--"  
    I slammed my fist into the floor, unable to hold in the anger and frustration that built up in me when I began to understand what my parents meant. I wasn't going to leave another home behind.  
    I got up and ran down the stairs to the front door, grabbing my cloak and flinging the door open. I stormed outside, to the bewilderment of Carver and Bethany, and slammed the door shut. I marched straight to the shed and grabbed my staff, leaving the shed open and walking through the empty fields to the forest at the base of the mountains.  
    Once I was out of hearing from the house, I cursed at the top of my lungs, challenging the night to make my life more miserable than it already was. I kicked stones and fallen branches, not feeling the pain of hitting the ones that refused to move. I began striking at the wind with my staff, swinging it in wide arcs until I hit a tree. Enraged, I continued to attack the tree until my staff suddenly split at the end. Tossing the remaining wood aside, I tore at my hair and fell to my knees, tears beginning to stream down my eyes.  
    I don't know how long I sat there, shivering in the cold and watching my tears freeze at they hit the ground. I thought I was just going to freeze there until a snapped twig gave me a start. I sprang up and spun around, baring my teeth at the form moving towards me. I realized it was my father after he took a few steps closer, and I shook my head. I half-heartedly kicked a tree, no longer able to express my rage.  
    "What's happened, Sophia?" My father ventured, placing a hand on my shoulder.  
    "We have to leave again, don't we?" I sighed despairingly. I already knew the answer. It was always the same.  
    My father moved so that he could look at my face, gently raising my gaze to meet his. I barely held back my tears when I saw the sad look in his eyes. "Yes."  
    I threw my arms around him, burying my face in his cloak and trying not to cry. "I... heard that Bethany is a mage. Is that true?"  
    My father patted me on the back a few times before answering. "It is true."  
    "How did you find out?" I asked.  
    My father sighed. "She set fire to Agatha's barn. Agatha saw for herself that it wasn't a dropped candle or such."  
    "Does Bethany know?"  
    "I have talked to her about it." My father paused. "I asked her what she had done that sparked the fire, and she was able to create the flame for me. I kept our house from burning down, of course, but Agatha isn't going to let this go without alerting the templars."  
    I gritted my teeth. "So we're leaving. Again."  
    "We are." My father wrapped his cloak around me. "But first we need to get you home before you catch a cold." He ended our embrace and took my hand, leading me out of the dark forest back to our home. Our temporary, fleeting home.

    I stared into the fire as I waited for everyone else to finish packing their things. Carver came over to poke my side when he was ready, but after flinching I returned to staring. Dissatisfied, he poked me again. I sighed and moved over, continuing to stare at the flickering light from the fire.  
    My mother walked in with her pack just as Carver was about to poke me again, and she shook her head at Carver. "Leave Sophia alone, Carver."  
    He sighed and sat down with his pack, frowning. "Oswin still owes me an apple."  
    "We can get you a new apple in our next home." Mother promised.  
    My father and Bethany both came in at the same time. Bethany looked afraid, as if she had learned some horrible secret. My father looked grim as he hefted his pack. "We should go."  
    My mother touched my arm. "It's time to go, dear."  
    I nodded, scowling as I looked away from the fire to stand up and lift my pack. "Fine. I'm ready to leave this place."  
    My parents both frowned, giving each other a glance before making one last check to make sure we had everything. Afterward, my father led us out and through the fields into the forest.  
    The pre-dawn forest seemed to echo my gloomy mood; each stone brooding in silence and each tree scowling at us. I scowled back, telling myself to hate this place for what it did to our family. It was hard enough when my father, a trained mage, was all the templars were hunting. Now that Bethany had the same curse, our precarious life became even more uncertain.  
    We walked for hours, but the sun barely reached us through the treetops. The trunks began to come closer together as we went deeper in, and I hoped my father knew where he was going. Bethany walked with him, holding his hand tight and trying her best to hold back her tears as she always had.  
    Carver seemed less upset than the rest of us for the moment, managing to keep up with father even as he occasionally stomped his foot on the ground. My mother watched him anxiously, giving me a quick glance over the shoulder. After a few more minutes, she inched closer and whispered to me.  
    "I'm sorry, darling." She put an arm around me in an attempt to comfort me, but I avoided looking her in the eye. "If there had been time, I would have let you say goodbye..."  
    She trailed off, not certain if I was even listening. I narrowed my eyes and clenched my fist as I considered what to say. "It was nothing, mother." I scowled more intensely, if that was even possible. "I know better than to get attached to anyone I meet..." I hesitated, decided it was worth adding "...especially a boy."  
    My mother shook her head. "That's what worries me most, Sophia." She sighed. "You've become..." She searched for the right word. "...distant. Detached. You just don't make friends like you used to. Even with Soren, you don't really let anyone get to know you. To get close to you."  
    "Why should I?" I snapped back. "I'm never going to see any of them again."  
    "But you can enjoy the time you do have with them." My mother pleaded. "It's like you built a wall around your heart, darling. You're only going to strangle yourself if you don't let yourself love anything."  
    "Why do I need to love anything, or anyone outside of my family?" I shook my head. "The only thing 'love' has ever given me is pain."  
    My mother sniffled, and I glanced to see that she was holding back a tear. "One day, we'll find a place where we can stay, darling." She pulled back her arm and wiped her eye with the back of her hand. "Maybe then you can find happiness in loving again."  
    I lowered my head, trying to ignore my mother's silent tears. It wasn't enough that I had to suffer, now I was hurting her too.  
    We continued through the forest for most of the day, stopping to make camp in a small cave for the night. My father taught Bethany how to light the fire, making sure she didn't hurt anyone. My mother ruffled Carver's hair and took out a book to read to him to keep him from trouble. I sat at the edge of the camp, looking out the mouth of the cave.  
    I sat there for a long time, watching the light coming through the treetops fading. I curled up, staring at my feet for a few minutes before I heard someone approaching. I looked up to see my father walking towards me carrying a simple staff.  
    "I had always thought it would be you to be gifted with magic." He mused, tapping the staff on the stone cave floor. "Your mother used to go on about our hair and eyes matching, and that you'd be the one to have our family talent."  
    "I don't want magic." I muttered. "I'm fine being normal."  
    "I know." He took a deep breath. "And I think it's for the best." He paused. He looked over the staff in his hands before offering it to me. "This staff isn't magical, just a piece of wood. It's normal, like you."  
    I glared suspiciously at the staff. "Why don't you make it magical so Bethany can have one like yours?"  
    My father knelt down next to me, looking into my eyes. "You wanted a training staff to practice sword fighting. I think you should have this staff to replace the one that broke."  
    I looked at my father in disbelief. I suddenly jumped up and hugged him, mumbling "thank you" into his cloak. He chuckled and pulled me off of him, offering the staff again. I took it in my hands and smiled at him.  
    "We should go back to the fire." He suggested. "Supper's waiting."  
    I nodded and rushed back to my pack to secure my treasure before joining my family as they finished cooking supper. I don't remember a happier moment of my life than when I went to sleep with a training staff at my side and my father's approval in my heart.


	3. Shattered Trust

9:24 Dragon

    We had been on the run for two weeks when we finally reached Lake Calenhad. Over that time I had practiced with my staff whenever I could, trying to teach myself how to fight. Sometimes Carver would find me practicing and would watch me for a while, and I couldn't tell if he was impressed or angry. My father taught Bethany how to control her magic, but it was difficult for her under the stressful conditions of our flight.  
    My father told me that the templars were likely close on our heels, and our path would be long and dangerous as we rounded Lake Calenhad to avoid the tower he called Kinloch Hold. He said that it was there they kept mages who submitted to the Chantry, and that the templars would be too numerous to avoid if we had gone in that direction.  
    The weeks we spent hiding in the wilderness near the road around Lake Calenhad seemed to take a toll on my father. We rarely saw any trouble; not one highwayman, wild animal or templar ever accosted us. But my father would disappear for hours, even days at a time only to return with a sad look in his eyes. I suspected he was the reason we never came to harm.  
      
    It was getting dark quickly that night, and my father still hadn't returned from gathering more wood for our fire. I sat hunched over, contemplating what he might be up to. My mother half-heartedly stirred the stew she had cooked to give herself something to do. Bethany silently read from one of father's books, a blank expression on her face. Carver was waving a stick he had found back and forth, swatting at flies and imaginary enemies.  
    "Take that, demon!" He shouted, hoping to get someone's attention. "Fear my holy sword of justice!" Noticing that none of us moved or looked up, he stuck his stick into the ground, bending it from the pressure. "I'll smite every demon that tries to hurt us!" The stick snapped, surprising Carver and making him fall to a sitting position. "Aw, my sword of justice broke."  
    "Father is taking a long time to get firewood." I noted, ignoring Carver.  
    My mother sighed, sitting back from the fire. "He'll be back, he probably just can't find many good branches."  
    "We're in a forest." I snapped back irritably. "He could have snapped off branches from any tree he came across and be back within an hour or two."  
    My mother frowned, apparently uncertain of what to say. "Maybe he's gotten lost, he'll find his way soon once he sees our fire."  
    I shook my head and stood up. "I going to go find him."  
    My mother looked up at me, worried. "Please, darling, stay here. I don't want you to get lost in the forest at night."  
    "I'm just going to tell father that he can come back, we don't need much more firewood."  
    I turned from the camp and began to walk away. "Sophia, wait!"  
    "I'll be back soon, mother." I promised. I marched out of the camp quickly so that my mother couldn't change my mind.  
    The forest appeared sinister at night. From between the treetops I could see the Frostback mountains towering over me. Fallen leaves and branches littered the ground, and the needles of the pines cast eerie shadows where the moonlight shone through the woods.  
    It wasn't long before I found a a buncle of branches lying together, as if gathered by someone looking for wood. I knelt down and examined the broken branches, but I could only tell that my father must have dropped them for some reason.  
    I continued into the forest, looking for signs pointing to where my father was. I found a few disturbances in the dirt and leaves on the ground, and decided to follow the tracks. The moon passed behind a cloud, making it difficult to see where I was going. I placed my hand on a tree to keep from losing my balance, and it felt like it had been frozen. I let go quickly, rubbing my hands on my cloak and breathing into them to keep warm.  
    Moving deeper into the dark woods, I saw a tree that looked like it had been scorched. I carefully waved my hand near the burn mark to find that the wood was still warm. I turned away from the tree to see a boulder that looked out of place. Moving closer, I saw that the boulder had been a few yards away from where it was now, and had somehow been moved without disturbing the leaves. I walked around the boulder and out of the corner of my eye saw a stain. I turned to look more closely at the boulder to see that it was blood.  
    Fear gripped my heart, chilling me more than the winter wind already had. I considered calling out for my father, but was afraid at what might answer me. I cautiously walked past the boulder again and tried to see deeper into the forest. The moon began to come out of the clouds, its light revealing an armored man with his chest smashed in and blood oozing out of him.  
    I froze, gasping at the sight. I inched closer, trying to get a better look at the man. He wore a helmet obscuring his face, and there was something engraved into his now-useless chestplate. I walked slowly towards the man until I stood over him, looking down at the crest. It depicted a flaming sword facing downwards, the mark of the templars.  
    I gulped and looked around, afraid something or someone would strike at me for standing over a dead templar. I couldn't keep my breathing regular as I ran deeper into the forest, hoping to find some explaination. I knew my father wouldn't actually kill the templars without good reason.  
    I stopped suddenly as the moon's light landed in a small clearing. Several small fires lit the underbrush and the low branches of nearby trees, casting a dim reflection on the armor of three men standing on one side. Two of them wore helmets, but the third's short blond hair was visible from my hidden spot behind the trees. His helmet lay at his feet, covered in blood. The blond haired man carried a sword and shield while the others held twin daggers. One of the helmeted men was bent over, blood seeping out of a wound to his side.  
    At the other side of the clearing was my father, bend over with exhaustion and his staff in pieces. I was horror-stuck when I saw that there was blood dripping off of him and staining the snowy gorund. I moved to some bushes at the edge of the clearing, trying to get close enough to hear without being seen.  
    "You've lost, apostate!" called the man with blond hair. "Surrender yourself and your daughter and we will let your family go."  
    "I won't let you take my Bethany!" My father roared back, recoiling in pain.  
    "Don't you want your daughter to live in the safety of the Circle?"  
    "Safety?" My father mocked before he spat at the ground. "Your Circle is a prison, and the templars are cruel jailors that care nothing for us mages!" He looked up defiantly. "My daughter deserves freedom. All mages deserve freedom!"  
    "Mages must learn to control themselves." The templar retorted.  
    My father pulled something out of his cloak, shaking his head. "I will never submit as long as I see the templars destroy the lives of mages and their families while justifying it as a holy deed."  
    "If you do not submit to the templars, we will kill both you and your daughter." The templar threatened, flourishing his sword.  
    I gasped as my father raised the knife he had pulled from his cloak and slashed his arm. He switched hands and cut his other arm as well before dropping the knife and howling. The blood that flowed from his wounds evaporated, and a darkness set over the clearing. I froze with terror as I felt like something was draining all the warmth from me. A dark figure, hunched over and definately not human rose as if from the ground. It seemed to sense everything in the clearing, and I felt as if it had focused on me. The templars backed away.  
    "It's a demon!" One of them cried.  
    The man with the side wound ran forward, brandishing his daggers. "Maker be my shield!"  
    The demon seemed to turn its attention away from me, and I felt some measure of warmth return. My relief ended when I saw it grab the templar and tear him to shreds, discarding limbs and flesh as it mutilated the templar.  
    My father shouted something at the demon in a language I didn't understand, and it moved toward the remaining templars. The helmeted templar turned as if to run before my father waved his hand and a magical force began to crush the man. With another wave of my father's hand the man exploded into pieces of flesh and gore and fountained blood.  
    The blond templar swung his sword at the demon, the blade passing through it as if it were nothing but air. The dark shade seemed to engulf the templar, holding him there in a demonic embrace longer than I dared to count. It released the man to let him fall to the ground, drained of life by the demon.  
    I panicked, turning and stumbling away from the clearing. The demon sensed the bushes rustling and I felt its gaze even while running in the other direction. I panted as I felt my breath leave me, all of my warmth being drained once again. I tripped and collapsed, unable to stand or get up. I heard cursing and shouting and a horrible unnatural shriek.  
    I gasped for breath, frightened for my life. I managed to push myself to my feet, using a tree to regain my balance. I saw something moving towards me, and I ran. I could barely keep from tripping, but I was able to move without being drained of my energy. I thought I heard my name being called, but I kept running. I passed the fourth former templar, the first I found, and the boulder that had been used to kill him. I passed the tree burned by magic and the tree frozen to death by the same hand.  
    I couldn't shake the memory of the otherworldly howl that had summoned the demon, nor the shriek that had sounded before I could escape. I still saw the blood evaporating from my father's wounds as he defiantly called an evil being into our world. I still felt as if all the warmth and life had been drained from me as the demon had turned to make me its victim.  
    This was why mages are feared.  
      
    I was out of breath by the time I stumbled back into the camp, and my mother immedeatly stood up and came to take hold of me. "What's happened, dear? Your face is pale!" She hugged me close, trying to reassure me. "You're freezing! You should have come back sooner!"  
    Bethany looked up from her book, a worried look creeping onto her face. "Is father coming back?"  
    I tried to gently push my mother aside, but was more forceful than I expected. She staggered back and watched anxiously as I shoved past Carver to go sit on the other side of the camp, far away from the fire. "Please sit by the fire before you catch a cold, darling!" My mother pleaded.  
    I took several deep breaths, trying to keep my fear and anger from showing. I rubbed my face to keep from tearing at my hair. Bethany slowly creeped over and sat down next to me. "Sister, what's wrong?"  
    I shook my head, taking another deep breath to keep from hitting Bethany. "It's nothing you need to worry about, Bethany. Just let me be."  
    She sat watching me, still concerned and oblivious to my fear of her. "Did you find father?"  
    "No." I lied. "But I think he'll be back soon."  
    Bethany accepted that, going off to wait for him by the fire. I scowled as Carver needled Bethany trying to find out what I was doing. I remained seated at the edge of camp, ready to scream.  
    I heard a sigh of relief from my mother when I heard footsteps coming closer to the camp. I glanced back to see that my father had returned, his wounds hidden by his cloak and no sign of blood on his clothes. Bethany and Carver hugged him close, almost causing him to drop the firewood he carried.  
    "It's good you're back, Malcolm." My mother said as he placed the firewood next to our tents. "Sophia had gone looking for you, and she came back only recently, out of breath and pale as death. She's going to catch a cold if she doesn't come over to the fire."  
    I turned to stare into the dark forest as my father moved over to me. He took a seat next to me, looking at me with concern. I scowled as he searched for what to say.  
    "Are you all right, Sophia?" He began uncertainly.  
    I sighed. "I'll live."  
    He frowned. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I wouldn't have done it if I had known you were there."  
    "It doesn't matter. You did what you had to." I spat out.  
    My father tried to put his arm around me, but I shoved it aside. "Sophia, I'm sorry..." He trailed off. "I want to give you a normal life--"  
    "How am I supposed to have a normal life?" I interrupted. "My father and sister are mages, my family is constantly being hunted by the templars, and I almost got killed by a demon." I clenched my fist and slammed the ground. "I will never have a normal life."  
    My father looked away, not knowing how to respond. "One day" he said after a moment of thought, "we'll find a home where it doesn't matter that your sister and I are mages. We won't have to run away anymore."  
    I shook my head. "I don't believe that anymore." I remembered the screams of the templars as the demon murdered them. "No one related to a mage can ever be safe."  
    My father frowned, but didn't challenge me. After a minute, he stood up. "You should come to the fire before you fall ill."  
    I let him walk over to the fire before I stood, turning to scowl at the flames that licked at the wood that cost four men their lives.


	4. Betrayal

9:26 Dragon

    The light from dozens of candles lit the otherwise dim chantry building in the cold winter night. I sat on a bench in the corner of the chantry, my hands clasped together and my head lowered more to deter curious onlookers than to indicate prayer. I scowled as a chantry sister across the aisle pointed me out to another sister, whispering something. I wasn't seen in the chantry as often as my sister, but it was hard to feel welcome when the sisters and priests avoided me and whispered to one another while glaring at me.  
    It wasn't as if my reputation was undeserved. Carver and I served part-time in the militia to keep order when farmers would get out of hand or highwaymen decided to threaten the village. It was hard to be loved when I took pride in how many farmers I had intimidated into dropping their complaints or how many bandits I had killed. My own mother seemed to fear me, even if she respected how I kept order.  
    But it wasn't my actions or my reputation that I had come to the chantry to contemplate. I came to pray for my father's health.  
    My feelings on my father were muddled. I still heard his terrible howl, felt his demon's touch, remember how close his desperate act to protect me had almost killed me. But when we finally arrived in Lothering in the spring, it seemed like he was trying to make up for his moment of weakness. He was the one who allowed Carver and I to vent our frustrations by joining the militia, and he kept Bethany safe on the farm most days and taught her what he could of magic. He even would use his magic to grow plants not usually available near Lothering to create medicine for the villagers, which he would deliver personally to make sure that his patients recovered.  
    I found it hard to hate him after all of his attempts to atone, especially when I considered the possibility that the demon he summoned had been his first and last. But he still seemed distant, unable to look me in the eye. I would pretend not to notice while others were around, but each night I would try to remember that proud look in his eyes the night he had given me his staff. I worried that I would never see that proud smile again when my father took ill.  
    He never told us what it was, just that "it will get better soon." But I worried all the same.  
    My thoughts were interrupted when I saw one of the chantry sisters walking toward me, a concerned look on her face. She brushed a lock of red hair out of her face before taking a seat next to me.  
    "I hope you have a good reason for bothering me." I growled, not interested in talking.  
    The sister seemed unfazed by my irritation. "You look troubled. Is there something you would like to talk about? Perhaps a confession to make?"  
    "I'm not here for a confession." I continued to look downwards, hoping that the sister would go away if I didn't bother to look at her.  
    "Speaking of your ills may make you fell better." The sister responded. "You will not be judged by any of the sisters here."  
    "It's not something I'm keen on sharing with strangers." I retorted.  
    "It is unwise to allow your troubles to overcome you. Should you change your mind, you are always welcome to speak with us here." To my relief, the sister stood and walked away. When she had moved far enough away, I sighed and stood up. I took a look at the altar, uncertain what to do next. Nothing came to me, so I shook my head and decided to leave. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the red-haired sister watching me as I walked into the cold night.

    I arrived at our farm on the outskirts of Lothering to find a commotion at the house. Bethany was pacing, wringing her wrists and muttering to herself. Carver looked up as I walked in, but just shook his head and turned back to the fire to ignore me. I sighed as I noticed that even the dog was gloomy, his eyes darting from Bethany to Carver as he sat in the corner.  
    "Bethany, what's happened?" I asked, dreading what she might tell me.  
    She took a deep breath and looked at me with sad eyes. "Father's getting worse."  
    I hesitated. "Worse? How?"  
    "He's been getting a horrible fever, and his coughing fits are worse than ever." Bethany looked away and shook her head. "I've tried everything we have, but no luck. Not even magic has been able to help him."  
    I stared at Bethany. "That can't be right." I leaned on a wall for support. "We should have something that can help him."  
    "Yeah!" Carver shouted, turning. "Why can't you just magic us a cure already, Bethany? It's your father, for Andraste's sake!"  
    "I tried!" Bethany yelled back, frustrated and clearly upset. "I've done everything I know to help him, and he only gets worse!"  
    "Oh, I get it." Carver mocked. "Maybe you should stop helping. Magic only makes him worse."  
    "Carver, Maker knows Bethany has tried!" I shouted. "If you have some idea of what might help father, why don't you do it?"  
    Carver stood up, irritated at being challenged. "Me? Why not you? You're the favorite daughter, where have you been all these weeks?" He pointed an accusing finger at me before I could respond. "That's right. Oh, look! Carver's joining the militia! I can do that so much better than he does! Maybe father will look me in the eye again if I beat Carver at his own game!"  
    "You know that's not why I joined, you imbecile!" I growled, walking toward him.  
    "Isn't it? Father hasn't been able to look you in the eye for three years!" He shook his head at me and narrowed his eyes. "What did you do that angered him so much? How could his darling deserve to be shunned?"  
    "You stay out of that!" I roared, grabbing Carver by the collar.  
    "Children, please!" My mother ran into the room, her eyes wide and her face stained with tears. She rushed over to me and pulled me off of Carver, who simply glared at me. "We have enough troubles without hurting one another."  
    Carver scoffed and sat in front of the fire in his old spot, muttering something nasty under his breath. My mother tried to ignore him and brushed some snow from my cloak before taking it off me. I shook my head as she carried the cloak to its hook. "I can do that myself, you know."  
    "Please, dear, don't complain." My mother pleaded softly. "We can complain after your father's well again."  
    Bethany wrung her wrists, going back to a table of herbal medicines that she had prepared. "How are we going to help him? Nothing we tried has worked..."  
    "His fate is for the Maker to decide." My mother whispered, growing silent for a moment. "For good or ill."  
    I lowered my head. I wasn't ready for my father to die.  
    "Can I go speak to father?" I asked quietly.  
    My mother looked at me sadly. "Of course, dear. You don't need to ask me for permission."  
    I heard my mother say something to Bethany about preparing supper, but I wasn't listening anymore. I gulped to contain my apprehension as I walked to my father's bedside, where he was reading a book about the Fourth Blight. He put the book down as he heard me come in and smiled at me, but I noticed he was looking past me rather than at my face.  
    "Are you well, dear?" He whispered, clearing his throat afterward.  
    "As well as can be expected, I suppose." I remarked, taking a seat in the chair my mother had placed by the bedside.  
    "Good, good..." My father tapped the book he had been reading. "Reading about war is always uplifting, isn't it?"  
    I snorted at the joke. "And here I was beginning to wonder if you were really sick."  
    My father chuckled, smiling. "It passes the time, anyhow." He took a deep breath. "Have I ever told you who we named you for?"  
    "Mother told me years ago." I assured him.  
    "Did she tell you the whole story?" He smirked, as if he knew something I didn't.  
    "No..." I sighed. "But I found out about the rest. Sophia led the wardens to their deaths and got them exiled from Ferelden."  
    My father was silent for a moment. "I hope that never happens to you."  
    "I do too." I suspected he was just filling time, so I decided it was time to leave him alone. "I'll go help with supper--"  
    "Wait." My father inched closer to me, touching my arm. "I love you, Sophia. Don't forget that."  
    I lowered my head, not knowing how to respond. I took a deep breath and muttered "I love you too."  
    My father smiled and picked up his book again. "Until later."  
    I nodded and stood. I left the room feeling no better than when I had entered it.

    A week went by quickly, with my father growing gradually worse. I'd leave Carver to his militia duties to make sure that Bethany got to and from the Chantry safely and without being discovered, and my mother would stay home to watch after my father. He wouldn't admit it when we offered him a looking-glass, but the veins in his arms and face began to darken as his fevers intensified.  
    I found myself in the chantry alone one night when Bethany decided to remain at father's side for the evening. I ignored the whispering of the chantry sisters as I sat in the corner of the chantry, bent over and thinking of happier days. I remembered my father's promise to me that we would find a place where we wouldn't have to run from the templars any longer. When I tried to think of a life without him, it felt empty.  
    I sighed as a blond-haired chantry sister nervously approached. I sat up and planned to scare her off with a glare, but didn't have the will to send her away. She rubbed her hands together and looked around to make sure no one was listening before looking at me. "Excuse me, serah, but something terrible has happened..."  
    "What do you mean?" I asked.  
    "It's one of the templars, serah." The sister stammered. "He was captured by bandits on the road and now they're holding him as a hostage."  
    I frowned. "What do they expect to gain from that?"  
    "Coin, they say." A disgusted look came over the sister's face. "They would dare waylay a member of the chantry for money!"  
    "And what do you expect me to do?" I demanded, suspecting what the sister's intent was.  
    "You're a skilled warrior, serah." The sister checked to make sure no one was watching before slipping me a coin purse. "Take some of the money that would have paid the ransom, and kill those Maker-forsaken criminals before they can harm anyone else."  
    I shook my head at the reward. "I don't want your money..." I held my tongue as I thought of something. "...but if you have any potions from the Circle I'll take one of those as a reward."  
    "You'll get both the coin and the potion if you succeed." The sister offered, sensing that I would help. "I'll have to make sure no one misses the potion, so make sure the templar makes it back while I retrieve it."  
    I nodded and stood to leave as the sister slinked away. I turned to leave the chantry to see Carver waiting, arms crossed. "Helping a templar, eh?"  
    I sighed. "Look, Carver. I'm trying to help father--"  
    "And it's about damn time!" Carver shook his head. "I just didn't expect you to consider helping a templar." He shrugged, looking away. "Though I guess that potion may be our only chance now."  
    "I wish there were another way..." I sighed. "...but I'm not going to let father die."  
    "Good." Carver motioned to the door. "It's getting late, we shold go."  
    The two of us drew our cloaks around us and walked out into the cold night. "I'm going to leave before dawn. I want to make sure that I can handle this on my own before I pick a fight."  
    Carver nodded. "I'll tell everyone that you needed to get something from town."  
    "Thanks, Carver." I patted him on the shoulder, causing him to shake his head.  
    "Thank me when you get back."

    I left home for the bandit camp early in the morning, as I had planned. It had begun to snow during the night, making my journey more difficult. The note with directions to the camp that had been stuffed into the coin purse was almost useless in its vauge description of the location, but I knew I had found the place when I saw three figures seated around a campfire.  
    Using a tree for cover, I tried to discern whether these were the bandits in question. They wore a patchwork of furs and leather, and each of them was armed with a bow and a sword. Looking closer, I noticed that one was facing away from the fire, watching something. Trying to follow his gaze, I saw a bound man in robes seated by a tree far from the fire. Examining the camp site again, I noticed that a suit of armor was lying about with no owner.  
    I tried to listen in on the bandits, but with no luck. I briefly considered rushing the camp, but instead took out the ransom note and unfolded it. I held out the note for the highwaymen to see as I walked from behind the tree toward the camp.  
    "Who goes there?" Shouted one of the bandits as I came into their view. "Show yourself!"  
    I held up the ransom note and pulled back the hood of my cloak. "I'm here for the templar."  
    "You're late!" The man spat at the ground. "Can't you read? It's an extra sovereign for each day we have to sit here waiting for you Chantry biddies."  
    I scowled at the man. "I'm not part of the Chantry, I'm just here to pay the ransom for the templar."  
    The man raised his brow and turned to the others. "Not part of the Chantry, she says!" The other highwaymen turned to look at me with curiosity. "And you say you have the ransom?"  
    "It's right here." I lied, pulling out the coin purse the chantry sister had given me and tossing it to the bandit. Without even checking it, he tossed it into the fire.  
    "It's her, lads." He pulled his sword out from under his cloak.  
    I cursed and drew my sword. Before I could act, I heard footsteps from behind me and the sound of arrows being nocked.  
    "Lay down your sword." A female voice commanded. The blond haired chantry sister came out from behind a tree. She was no longer nervous and worried like she was in the chantry; she walked as if she were in charge.  
    "You set me up." I growled, tossing my sword aside in disgust. "Now what, are you going to ransom me back too? Or just kill me and blame it on highwaymen?"  
    The sister shook her head. "I must speak with you." She walked up to me, looking into my eyes. Her gaze made me uneasy, as if she were expecting me to live up to some ideal. "Before we begin, my name is Sister Agatha."  
    My eyes narrowed at the name. "Have we met before?"  
    "We were both farmers in a village just outside of West Hill." Agatha began to pace in front of me, gesturing to the bandits to lower their bows. They did so, but kept their arrows nocked. "Your sister ended that life for both of us."  
    I shook my head at Agatha, confused. "That was years ago. What has that got to do with a chantry sister working with bandits?"  
    She stopped pacing. She sighed and lowered her head. "After your family disappeared, a templar came to our village and asked me about your sister. I told him about your farm, hoping he would see justice done."  
    "Justice?" I scowled at Agatha. "You set the templars on my sister. She was only eleven years old!"  
    "And she should have been in the Circle! If she had been where she belonged, I would still have my life!" Agatha screamed, losing her composure. She panted for a moment before she calmed herself. "Once the templar left, I joined the Chantry. There was nothing left for me in West Hill."  
    Agatha sat down on a log placed near the fire, indicating I should sit next to her. Scowling at the bandits standing ready to shoot me, I obeyed. Agatha stared into the fire, meditating.  
    "I was on a pilgrimage to Val Royeaux when I found a templar wounded on the side of the road near Lake Calenhad. He was the same man that I had advised of your sister, but he was... changed." Agatha took a deep breath. "He told me of a fight with a terrible maleficar, and declared that he would have revenge for his fallen comrades."  
    My heart skipped a beat. There couldn't have been any templars who survived my father's desperation. But there could be no mistaking the night that Agatha was referring to.  
    "So what did you do with him?" I asked, hoping to hide my surprise.  
    Agatha adjusted herself on the log. "I promised to help him get revenge on the maleficar. After seeing what had been done to the man..." She clenched her fists. "Maleficar deserve no rest, in this world or the next."  
    "I know the Chant, sister." I snapped. "You still haven't explained yourself."  
    Agatha frowned. "When we came to Lothering, the trail went cold. The templar began to lose faith." She turned to me, fire in her eyes. "He suggested that we let the maleficar be, that we give up our search and vengeance!" Agatha stood up, enraged. "He would let innocents die for his lack of faith!"  
    Understanding dawned on me. I looked back at the robed man sitting by the tree. "You turned on him!"  
    "No!" Agatha howled. "He turned his back on the Maker! He abandoned his duty!"  
    "You handed him over to highwaymen!" I growled.  
    "A necessary evil to protect the faithful from magic." Agatha glowered at me. "Your sister is an apostate, and must turn herself in or be killed..." I scowled at her, only to be ignored. "...but the templar mentioned that you knew the maleficar. It is a sin against the Maker to harbor him, yet you have not once spoken of him or even repented for your evil deeds!"  
    "I'm not protecting a maleficar." I growled, clenching my fists.  
    "Do not lie to me." Agatha grabbed me by the arm and pulled me up, bringing her face close to mine. "Do not risk eternity for a single man."  
    I seethed, wishing I could hit her. "I know nothing you want."  
    Agatha glared, challenging me. I scowled back. Her face finally softened, and she let go of my arm. She turned from me and lowered her head. "Then I am left with no choice." She sighed. "Your entire family will have to be killed, to ensure that the maleficar cannot hide."  
    I gasped. "No!" I rushed to Agatha's side, grabbing her arm. "You can't kill them! They've done nothing wrong!"  
    Agatha signaled the bandits, and two of them came to pull me off her. I struggled against them, but they tossed me to the ground and began to tie up my arms and legs before I could react.  
    "Sometimes difficult choices must be made for the greater good." Agatha looked down at me, pinned to the ground and my face covered in snow.  
    "I'll tell you who the apostates are if you promise not to hurt any of them!" I shouted, regretting my words even before I was finished speaking.  
    Agatha pondered, watching the bandits pull me into a sitting position. "The Maker is willing to forgive anyone who comes to Him with an honest heart." She knelt down in front of me, looking me in the eye. I wanted nothing more than to be able to look away. "Tell me who the mages are, and I will ensure they are transported to the Circle safely and that the rest of your family won't be harmed."  
    I shook with anger, not sure if it was directed at Agatha or myself. "My sister... and..."  
    Agatha sensed my hesitation. "Do not fear, child. You do the Maker's work."  
    I lowered my head. "My father."  
    Agatha stood, nodding. "I should have suspected." She pointed at the tree where the templar was seated. "Take her to that tree over there and let her consider her deeds. If she doesn't cause trouble, we'll release her in the morning."  
    One of the bandits came to take me away. Some of the other highwaymen came over to the fire and began to ask questions to the fanatic sister. I could only hear pieces of the conversation before I was out of hearing. The bandit dragged me through the snow and dropped me next to the templar before walking back to the camp.  
    "Do not mistake Sister Agatha for a faithful member of the Chantry." The templar whispered to me. "She is no longer truely human."  
    I snapped at the templar beside me, turning to him. "You're just as responsible for what's going to happen as she is, or I am!"  
    "That is true, but her actions do not reflect the will of the Maker." He replied, his head turned away so I could only see his graying short blond hair.  
    "And how do you know this?" I demanded, cold and angry.  
    He turned to me, causing me to gasp in surprise. His face was shrunken and withered, as if he had wasted away from horrible disease for years. His blue eyes were the only bright part of his face, and even they were dulled from their old vigor. I saw a cruel, distorted visage of what had once been the youthful face of Ser Palmer from South Reach. "I know how it feels to be an abomination."


	5. Night's End

9:26 Dragon

    I recoiled from the mockery of a face that looked upon me with sad eyes. Palmer didn't frown or get angry at me for my disgust. Instead, he seemed almost peaceful, as if he had found something he had sought for years. "Before, I had suspected that Wither would succeed in his revenge." He smiled at me. "But you have given me hope."  
    I shook my head, wondering if I had dragged from a madwoman to sit next to a lunatic. "I have no idea what you're talking about."  
    "Your father must have spoken to you about abominations before."  
    I sighed, nodding. "He mentioned what one is." I tried not to think of the horrors my father suggested when he had set me aside and explained his secret to me, a girl only barely able to speak and walk.  
    Palmer shifted uncomfortably. "Two years ago, your father summoned the hunger demon that called itself Wither to protect your family. It cut down my men and almost killed me as well."  
    "You should have died there." I blurted out without thinking. "I saw that demon attack you, right before..."  
    Palmer waited for me to continute, but when I trailed off he finished for me. "...Before it came after you. To find someone so young was... surprising to Wither. He wanted to drain your life in place of mine, because you were so young compared to me." He shifted again, pushing against the tree once.  
    "So the demon didn't kill you? It just left you to come after me?" I asked slowly.  
    "Yes." Palmer lowered his head. "And I should have prevented it from endagering you."  
    I shook my head, angry. "Some templar you are, falling so quickly."  
    To my surprise, Palmer nodded. "Had I not provoked your father, he wouldn't have resorted to demons. The blood of my men is on my hands." I stared at him, but he didn't return my gaze. "But that is not important right now."  
    I tried to shuffle into a more comfortable postition, but my bonds were tied too tight. "And what is important right now?"  
    Palmer leaned back. "After your family had escaped and the demon recovered from your father's spell, he possessed me. It was a horrible feeling, to watch my life as an observer, watch as the demon looked for a way to exact revenge on your father. He found me too frail after what he had done to me, and so he went in search of a new host."  
    "You mean Agatha." I muttered.  
    "Yes, the sister." He took a deep breath. "When the trail led to Lothering, he took control of her. The transition was painful for all of us, and the demon lost its memory of everything but its revenge. For a time, I was its only means of finding your family."  
    I lowered my head and cursed. "Until I told Agatha that my father was the mage she's looking for."  
    For a moment Palmer was silent. The gravity of the situation was finally getting to me, and I found myself sobbing. If the demon found my family, it wouldn't let any of them live. The bonds dug into my skin, but I ignored the pain as I cried with anger at my own stupidity.  
    I would have jumped at the hand placed on my shoulder if I had not been bound. I spun my head around to see that Palmer had cut his bonds, the knife still in his hands. "There is still hope for your family, serah Hawke."  
    I stared at him as he quickly cut the bonds on my hands and legs. I rubbed my wrists to get the blood flowing again, ignoring that Palmer knew my family name. "What are we supposed to do?"  
    "I will stay and fight the bandits to give you a chance to escape." He turned the knife on its end and presented it to me. "You must find Agatha and kill her before she reaches your home."  
    A thousand doubts clouded my mind at this sudden command. I stared at him and the knife he held out to me, silent. It was almost a minute before I managed to mutter "She's a sister of the Chantry!"  
    Palmer shook his head grimly. "There is nothing left of that woman. Only Wither remains."  
    I looked at the bandit camp, noticing that Agatha was still talking with the bandits. "What if she brings some of the bandits with her?"  
    "Wither won't allow for witnesses. He'll leave them here and return to destroy them." Palmer looked me in the eye. "You must do this. It is not for me or the Chantry I ask this of you. You must do this to save your family."  
    I looked up at Palmer, surprised. "You aren't angry that my father is an apostate? You would die fighting bandits to save him?"  
    Palmer clasped my shoulder once again. "'Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.' Your father was ruled by magic that night because of my actions, not his." He paused, waiting for some sign I understood. Not getting a response, he added "My only regret is that I caused this to happen." He presented the knife once more. "Go with the Maker's blessing."  
    I took the knife and tucked it in my sword's sheath, trying to keep my breath steady. "When do I run?"  
    Palmer motioned to the camp. "Wither will not wait for dawn. Agatha will leave within the hour."

    Only a part of an hour passed when I saw Agatha withdraw quietly from the camp. Palmer and I pretended to still be tied up to avoid suspicion, but I still froze when Agatha glanced in our direction. She slinked away from the camp without alerting any of the highwaymen, and they continued their tasks as if she had not left.  
    The snow had stopped, and the light of the stars dimmed. It was almost dawn, but the night seemed the darkest at that moment. I had to force myself to breathe regularly rather than panting from the cold, and I couldn't help my shivering. Behind my back I clutched the knife that Palmer had given me. I had to be ready to move at any moment.  
    Palmer turned to me, smiling grimly. "Destroying Wither is now up to you. Maker watch over you and your family, serah Hawke."  
    I watched him stand up slowly while glancing back at the camp nervously. None of the bandits were paying attention yet, but I suspected it wouldn't be long before they did. I still couldn't understand that Palmer was ready to die for my family. "They'll kill you if you fight them" I whispered.  
    "They cannot see which way you leave, or they will kill you as well." Palmer clasped a hand over his chest. "The order dictates that I do everything in my power to protect the people from magic." He looked at me. "The order has forgotten that mages and their families suffer as well, as often from our mistakes as their own."  
    I lowered my head. I couldn't think of what to say. I was too cold and too nervous and too afraid to question him. So all I said was "Maker grant you peace."  
    Palmer pointed at the path Agatha had taken. "Wither has taken Agatha towards your home. You must hurry to catch up with him." He nodded solemnly at me. "Farewell."  
    I stood slowly and crept behind a tree as I watched Palmer stride toward the bandit camp. The highwaymen weren't expecting him, as they all rose up as quickly as they realized the threat. Palmer picked up a discarded sword and began to speak to them, but I could tell they wouldn't negotiate when they drew their weapons. Palmer dropped into a defensive stance, but I didn't stay to see the obvious outcome. I ran into the forest, hoping I wouldn't be too late.

    The chase felt like it lasted hours, even though it was likely only a few minutes or so. There were clear tracks in the snow, and I wondered if the bandits would pursue me when they noticed I was gone. I tried not to think about it as I ran through the snowy forest.  
    I was nearly out of breath when I found myself in a secluded glade, the trail having disappeared from beneath me. I panted, frantically looking around for the bootprints I had been following. Suddenly, a tree caught fire and lit up the night, and I felt the heat of the blast wash over me. Another tree combusted and I spun around to see Agatha, her eyes glowing dark red and her skin torn with veins of red light. She flung her wrist at the edges of the clearing and a ring of fire enclosed us, the smoke bringing tears to my eyes.  
    "I would have spared you had you not tried to resist." Agatha boomed in an unnaturally low voice. "You do not know how I desired to feast upon you while you were at my mercy."  
    I coughed, waving my hand in a vain attempt to clear the smoke from my face. "Why didn't you just kill me then, if you wanted to so badly?"  
    "Because you are not what I came here for." Agatha growled. "There are debts that must be repaid."  
    I raised the knife, squinting to see through the smoke. "You're not going to hurt my father."  
    The demon in Agatha cackled. "You are just like the templar. You are blind to the pacts that were made, that your father broke." I gasped as Agatha ran towards me and grabbed me by the throat, lifting me into the air. "He promised me three lives, and I only had two when he betrayed me. If he wished his bargain to exclude you, he should have told me."  
    I clutched the hand at my throat, struggling to break free. I swung the knife at Agatha's arm, cutting deep into the flesh and causing her to release me. I fell to the ground, my face buried in the melting snow. I could smell burnt blood as I tried to rise, and the abomination grapsed at its hand.  
    The demon cursed, backing away. It let the wounded arm fall limp while conjuring a ball of electricity in the other. My eyes widened as I saw the magic form, and I barely jumped out of the way of an electrical bolt. I regained my balance and tried to ignore the burnt tree that had taken the blast.  
    I flung the knife at the monster, catching it in the stomach. It took a step back from the force of the blow, allowing me to move closer and punch it in the face. The pained look on Agatha's face when I hit her took me off guard, making me hesitate. The demon took that opportunity to fling me aside with supernatural strength. I tumbled and fell face-first into the snow. Rolling over, I spit the snow out of my face to see the abomination pull out the knife and fling it aside.  
    I froze in shock as a terrible feeling overtook me. I felt colder than I should have, and it felt like the warmth and life was being drained from me. The horror from my first encounter with the demon returned, amplified by the burning red face of Agatha staring down at me. The abomination knelt down next to me, watching my face as I tried helplessly to resist, knowing there was no way I could defend myself from magic.  
    "Poor girl." Agatha spoke, or the demon spoke. "A godless father sacrifices his dearest daughter to ensure that his apostate child can live." Agatha looked down at me. "I wonder if he ever truely loved you."  
    Something snapped in me. I welled with rage at the abomination daring to suggest it knew my father. I felt my face flush red and my heart beat faster. My hand caught Agatha by the shoulder before the demon could react, and I pulled myself up and punched it in the face. "You do not know my father!"  
    The demon fell back, surprised that I had broken its hold on me. It tried to back away, but I stomped on its chest to keep the abomination from fleeing.  
    "My father would have never summoned you if he didn't love me!" I shouted, panting.  
    "There are three without magic in your family..." Agatha moaned, the red glow in her eyes flickering. "...and I was promised three lives--"  
    I lost control, falling upon the abomination and pummeling its face with all my strength. "I'll kill you!"  
    I crushed Agatha's face in a way that even the demon could not prevent. I let out all of my anger and frustration into each blow. When I stopped to catch my breath, I realized that the red glow had dissapeared and that Agatha was bleeding uncontrollably from the beating I had given her.  
    I gasped as she looked at me with peaceful eyes, unlike the look I expected from her or the demon. "You must... end it..."  
    I shook my head in shock, only now seeing the blood covering my hands. I looked into Agatha's eyes and knew that the demon was no longer controlling her. I opened my mouth, unable to respond.  
    "The demon... is still here..." Agatha coughed, barely a whisper. "You have to kill me... to send it back."  
    I shook my head, appalled at what I had done to her. "There has to be another way" I muttered, barely keeping from turning away from my deed.  
    "No..." She muttered, turning her head on its side and looking at something nearby. I turned and saw the knife Palmer had given me. "End it... before anyone else dies..."  
    I quickly grabbed the knife and knelt down next to Agatha. She positioned it over her heart, but I hesitated to kill her. She gave me a broken, sad smile.  
    "I'm sorry... this happened to you..." Agatha coughed up blood, and I saw it drip down her throat as she took a ragged breath. "Your sister wasn't to blame... for what happened to me..." She gasped painfully, and I instictively reached for her shoulder with my free hand. "And your father... was only trying to protect you..." She tried to chuckle, but choked and coughed on blood instead. "I have seen... why he opposes... the Circle..." She looked up at me. "He made a mistake... but he is a good man..."  
    I finally found my voice after silently listening to her attempts to console me. "I don't blame my father. This all happened because of me."  
    She nodded. "Accept responsibility for your actions, but do not think you are solely at fault. There are things beyond our control." Agatha laid her head back. "We have waited too long."  
    I nodded sorrowfully. I didn't think it would be so difficult to kill her until she spoke to me. "May the Maker forgive you and grant you a place at His side."  
    The chantry sister closed her eyes and nodded. "So let it be."  
    I took a deep breath and thrust the knife into her heart. She gasped in pain, and I felt the world around me shake as the spirit that had possessed her was forced back into the Fade. I looked up to see that the fires had died down and that the smoke was receeding. I pulled the knife out of Agatha's chest and said a quick prayer for her and Palmer.  
    I cleaned my hands in snow and tossed the knife aside as I left the clearing. I still had to get back to Lothering before the bandits came looking for Agatha. If I alerted the militia, they could end the highwaymen's ambushes before more people were hurt. And without a potion from the Circle, I would need to find another way to help my father.  
    And so I began the long walk back home. The morning sun greeted me as I left the forest behind.


	6. Farewell

9:27 Dragon

    My father was dying.  
    I got the message from Carver, who had come to me in the Chantry to tell me the news. My father had been growing weaker ever since he fell ill, and after my failed attempt to find aid he only got worse. His body had shriveled as if devoured from the inside, and his eyes began to turn a milky gray. Bethany thought it must be the Blight disease, but she couldn't explain why we hadn't been infected or discover whether our father had fought darkspawn without telling us. At this point, it didn't matter.  
    Carver and I ran back to our farm. In our hurry we burst into our father's room and surprised my mother. She stood to reprimand us, but my father reached out from his bed and grapsed her arm. She stood still for a moment before sighing and sitting back down. I walked toward my father, my head lowered.  
    "I'm sorry, I was in the village." I muttered as my excuse.  
    My father smiled. I hadn't ever told him directly what happened to Agatha and Palmer, but something told me he knew. It almost seemed like he stopped fighting his illness when the demon was defeated, as if he was only clinging to life in order to protect us. Now that we were safe, he seemed to feel as though it was time to give in.  
    "Come closer, children." My father whispered, waving Carver and I over. Bethany came into the room with a mug, setting it down near my father's hand. All of us gathered around my father. My mother sat in her chair beside me, holding my father's head up.  
    There was a pause as my father considered his last words. "Has the army accepted you, Carver?" My father glanced at Carver with a proud smile.  
    "No. They say I'm not disciplined enough." Carver grumbled. "But I'm going to keep training, even if it means leaving the militia. One day I'm going to be a soldier."  
    "Good." My father nodded. "Never lose sight of your purpose, Carver." He seemed to place emphasis on my brother's name, but I didn't understand the significance the name apparently held. Whether Carver understood or not I never learned, but he nodded and I thought I saw the trace of a smile.  
    Bethany rubbed her face with the back of her hand, and I almost gasped when I saw that she was crying. My father also noticed this unusual behavior and reached out to Bethany. "Don't cry, my dear."  
    Bethany sniffled, trying to hide her face. "I'm not ready to lose you. I still have so much to learn..."  
    My father clasped Bethany's hand. "You've learned everything you need, Bethany. You've always had the inner strength to endure what others couldn't, don't doubt yourself now or ever."  
    Bethany nodded, wiping away her tears before grasping the comforting hand stretched out to her with both of her hands. "I'll be strong, father. For you."  
    She let go of my father's hand after a minute, composing herself and keeping her tears from falling again. My father now turned to me. I tried to keep a steady face as he gazed straight into my eyes.  
    "Look after your siblings and mother, Sophia." He smiled. "You've made me proud, even if I didn't express it properly."  
    I stepped closer to him, and my mother looked up and smiled at me. "Father..." I muttered, unsure of what to say.  
    "Don't ever let the world dictate what you are." My father reached out and put his hands on my shoulders. I leaned down and hugged him, barely holding my tears in. He whispered to me, but his voice was loud enough for the others to hear if they wished. "I was never able to give you the normal life I promised, but one day perhaps you can find something better."  
    I nodded, smiling sadly. "I'll make you proud, father."  
    "Of course you will." My father kissed me on the forehead and leaned back on his bed, supported by my mother. I stepped back to let my mother hold his hand one last time.  
    "I'll miss you, darling." My mother whispered, stroking my father's shriveled face.  
    My father stroked his wife's face for the last time. "Take care of the children, Leandra. Perhaps one day we might see one another again beside the Maker."  
    My mother nodded. "Goodbye, Malcolm."  
    That was enough for my father, his final farewells. He simply laid his head down on his bed, closing his eyes. We all moved closer and each rested a hand on him. I lowered my head after a few minutes, having felt his last heartbeat and heard his last breath.  
    My mother began to sob softly. Carver walked around the bed and hugged her, whispering something to her. Bethany took a deep breath and tried to smile at me. I faked a smile back, hoping I looked stronger than I felt.  
    We built a pyre for my father, following his wish that he be cremated as those faithful to the Chantry are. We claimed that the smoke rising from our farm was from a bonfire for old straw and hay, hoping to keep the Chantry from discovering Bethany. Even so, the red-haired chantry sister appeared at our farm and offered to commend my father's soul to the Maker. When my mother agreed, the sister recited one of the standard funeral rites:  
    "Ashes we were, and ashes we become. Maker, grant this father and husband a place at your side. Let us find solace in the peace he has found in eternity."  
    The sister left not long after the fire died down. The rest of us stayed for a while, but I eventually found myself alone with the ashes. To keep up our ruse, the ashes would be scattered by the wind rather than buried.  
    I considered leaving, but I felt like I had left something unfinished. After staring at the ashes for a long time, I knelt down and lowered my head.  
    "I forgive you, father." I began. "I forgive you for what you did in the forest. You never meant to hurt me, you did it because it was the only way to keep us safe."  
    I felt better, but I realized that I was being selfish, thinking I could grant absolution when I had wronged him as well. My heart sank, but then I remembered my father's last words. He was proud of me.  
    But could he forgive me?  
    "I hope you can forgive me for what I've done." I whispered.  
    I heard my mother chuckling. I turned to see that she had been watching me. I gasped in shock, but her face was lined with understanding.  
    "It's only me, darling." She spoke in a soothing voice.  
    I stood up, frowning. "What did you hear?"  
    "Nothing I didn't already know."  
    I lowered my head and tried to hide my face. My mother stepped closer to me and lifted my face with her gentle hand.  
    "Your father forgave you, Sophia. Don't let a single moment of weakness scar you for life."  
    I felt a tear stream down my cheek. I looked my mother in the eye and smiled. "I didn't think you knew."  
    My mother put her arm around me. "It's in the past, darling. You still have too much life left in you to have regrets."  
    I nodded, my tears still flowing but my heart set at ease.


End file.
